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“Help!” I scream as I run down the dark, murky streets of Derry, “Somebody help m-” A gloved hand clamps down over my mouth, stopping me from gaining anyone’s attention, not that there is anyone around to help, not at this hour.
At first I couldn’t understand what was happening, why this thing was after me, but the moment that hand grabbed me, horrible long forgotten memories came flooding back. Twenty seven years ago when I was just eight years old It had come after me a first time. I had managed to stay well away from the clown because even though I had no friends I managed to always stay with someone, mostly always my mother.
Twenty-seven years earlier:
I’m sitting on my bed, hair done up in ribbons, black, to go with the rest of my outfit. Today was not a day to laugh or to have fun, today I said goodbye to my daddy. Tears brim in my eyes and I take in a sharp breath of air refusing to let them fall, I needed to be strong for my mom today, like she had been for me since his passing. “Honey,” comes my mother’s voice causing me to look up and over at my bedroom door, she’s standing there with a sad smile, hand out for me to take, “it’s time”. Taking a deep breath I slip off my bed, fix my dress before going over to her. I have to be strong, I keep telling myself.
This is my first funeral, my parents hadn’t let me go to my Pappy’s. I had been too young they had said.
Flowers line the church, all the way up to the dark wooden coffin where my father lay.
I feel the tears building up in my eyes as I walk forward, towards the front of the church where my Grammy and Uncle are sat.
My mother tightens her grip on my hand, which causes me to look away from the coffin and look up at her. She’s crying, her mascara matting her long lashes.
The ceremony starts and I fade out, I don’t mean to but it happens. Memories play in my mind, the happy times with my dad before he got sick and slowly slipped away. A heartbreaking sob slips my lips, it causes the priest to stop his speech and look up over at me for a moment. He doesn’t quite look at me sympathetically, it’s mixed with something close to annoyance. I feel the tight squeeze of my Uncle’s hand, a feeling of peace begins to wash over me and I allow myself to fall into his loving embrace. My uncle Fred is daddy’s younger brother, he and daddy were always together and I liked nothing more than to sit with them on the porch of our house and listen to them chat.
Big sad wet tears still drip from my eyes, staining my pink flushed cheeks.
Before I know it, I’m being escorted out of the church by my mother who tells me that it’s time to put daddy to rest, that he is going away now. At the burial where my father is being put into the ground I look up and notice something odd, a red floating balloon. Logically, it should float away, up into the clouds, I’ve had enough balloons to know that by now, but this one doesn’t, no, it’s almost as if an invisible someone is pulling the thing along. I put it out of my mind and concentrate on what’s going on, daddy would have been upset if he knew I weren’t paying attention to this.
Everyone comes back to our house for the wake, I don’t understand what a wake is nor who is supposed to wake but there is food. People keep giving me sad smiles and sympathetic hugs, I don’t mind but, most of these people don’t really care about me and I know it. After a while, I’m able to get away for which I’m grateful since everything is getting too much for me, I head out into the garden for some fresh air.
I go and sit by daddy’s flowers down at the end of the garden, I used to love to sit here with him, now all it reminds me of is how alone I really am.
“Hi,” Comes a voice.
I frown and look up, noticing a clown standing just the other side of the short fence dividing our garden and the street behind it.
“My name is Pennywise, the dancing clown,” he introduces with an exaggerated bow, “Aren’t you gonna say hello?” He questions, expression turning a little hurt when I don’t reply or laugh at his antics.
Slowly I shake my head and stand, eyes never leaving the clown, I feel a little uncomfortable because he is drooling and that’s just disgusting.
“Why not?” He asks as he steps forward, it’s as if he passes through the fence.
My little heart begins to beat louder and faster as he approaches me.
“I don’t like clowns,” I say stiffly. There is something about this man that I don’t like, he is too friendly and no one is ever that nice, at least not in Derry.
His smile drops and I could have sworn that he growls, low and from somewhere deep within his chest, almost like an angry dog. He takes another step forward towards me only this time it seems menacing, he seems furious.
“Mumma!” I scream at the top of my lungs and turn on my heel running towards the house.
The clown follows quickly behind me, almost snatching me up.
“Mumma!” Tears pour down my face as I feel his fingers grip the hem of my dress, my heart pounds in my small chest, I feel like I’m going to pass out.
I can hear my uncle’s voice, I think he is calling my name, he exits the house quickly, face clearly worried, “are you okay?”
Tears stream down my face as I continue to run to him, allowing him to scoop me up in his warm protective arms.
It does, however, seem strange to me that he doesn’t chase off the clown, maybe he is already gone? “Honey,” He says as he strokes my hair lightly, “I know this is hard, but it’ll get easier, I promise” His soft voice snakes around me, trying it’s best to comfort me, but I ignore it in favor of looking over his shoulder as he walks me back into the house. My heart stops when I see that the clown is still there, yellow eyes glaring at me, sharp teeth snarling from his red mouth. Why hadn’t he chased him off? I close my eyes quickly and hold my breath hoping that it will have been just some bad dream when I open them again.
*
Everything seems fine after that episode, I don’t see the clown for a little while. I continue to feel the loss of my dad for a long time, the bedtime stories aren’t as fun with mom, my sandwiches aren’t cut into squares but into triangles. Everything is different, but I don’t say a word, not wanting to upset mom, she is finding it difficult without daddy, I hear her cry every night.
I never go back into the garden to play though, too afraid that the clown will be waiting for me. The flowers seem to die because I’m not out there enjoying them but I don’t care. I’m convinced that daddy would understand if he was here, besides nothing is the same without him and mumma doesn’t know how to garden.
I’m walking down the road with my mom, back towards the car after going into the drug store. I stop suddenly to look at the paper that is stapled to the telephone pole.
Missing, George Denbrough
I swallow audibly as I look at the photo, eyes scanning over the rest of the information, six years old.
“Honey, come on we have to get back,” My mom says as she takes my hand and pulls me gently making me follow her.
“Mumma,” I start, looking up at her, “Where do you think he is?”
It’s as if she can’t hear me because she doesn’t even so much as turn to look at me. I initially think this is strange but shrug it off, thinking that maybe she is sad that he is missing.
I get home and go to my room to play like the good child I am. For what seems like hours I play happily with my barbies, making up scenarios in my head and temporally forgetting all of my troubles.
“Buttercup!”
I stop dead at the sound of the voice.
“Come on buttercup!”
I’m standing before I even think and head over to the open window. Peering out of it, I don’t believe my eyes, it’s daddy!
“ Hi honey!” He greets with a big wave, “Come on down,”
I nod happily and run over to the door before stopping when reality hits, my dad isn’t here anymore, he’s gone to his forever place. Slowly I walk back over to the window and look out of it again expecting him to have disappeared, but no, my dad is still standing there waiting for me.
“D-daddy?” I ask, voice trembling slightly, this wasn’t possible and it was beginning to scare me.
“Come with me buttercup,” He smiles, but it isn’t his smile, “if you come with me, you’ll float,” His voice is getting darker and something inside me is telling me to run, “don’t you want to float?”
And as if by magic he is gone, replaced by the very same clown who had bothered me at daddy’s wake. He is smiling up at me, grinning horribly, so horrible that tears gather in my eyes. “You’ll float too,” he says in a deep scratchy voice, his grin growing wider showing his razor sharp teeth.
“Mumma!” I scream as I turn from the window and head out of the room, sprinting down the stairs. I feel something grip my arm as I run down the dark hall, probably just my imagination, but it’s enough to have my heart slamming against my chest.
“Mumma!” Hot tears burn my eyes as fear grips me tightly.
“Baby!” Comes my mother’s worried voice as she exits the kitchen, running towards me, “what’s wrong?” She falls to her knees and scoops me up in her arms, cradling my shaking form.
“Th-th-there, w-was someone o-outside,” I wail, trying my best to hide in my mother’s shoulder.
She pats me on the back lightly and hushes me, simply my imagination, she thinks, I always did have an active imagination.
*
From that moment on I decide never to leave my mother’s side again. When I couldn’t be with her I made sure that I was always with an adult. Even at night I refused to sleep alone, at first it annoyed mom because I was just being a bratty eight year old, but eventually she began to understand that it was much more than that and so I began to sleep in bed with her. It was as if by magic I stopped seeing that scary clown, and I put it down to being with my mother, like she was some kind of superhero.
There were, however, more missing posters going up all around town, and that chilled me to the bone.
Present time:
I’m being dragged away, out of the open road and towards the line of trees not too far away, panic grips my insides as I thrash against the clown, it’s impossible to get away. It takes almost no effort for me to be hauled away, out of sight of anyone who decides to venture out in the hard pouring rain. The next thing I feel is the rough wet bark of a nearby tree that I’m all but thrown at, I close my eyes exhaling painfully, this is not how I remember it.
“Remember me?” Comes it’s chilling voice.
Fear digs its claws in, slowly I let out a shaky breath, this is not real, I remind myself before turning to face It.
The clown smiles, no sharp teeth showing, at least for now, it was soon to come that much I’m certain of.
“You’ve changed,” It states, almost pouting, “You’ve grown up, but…” It grins, it chills me to the very core, “You’re still afraid,”
Deep down I wish that I could deny it, but even I know I’m hiding it terribly.
“W-what do you want?” I manage with only a slight tremble of my voice.
This seems to please the clown who’s grin widens if that is even possible.
“To finish what I started,” It steps forward just an inch which causes me to take one back only to remind me that I am in fact against a tree, “It’s been twenty seven years and I’m hungry,” Its voice turns into a growl which makes me swallow audibly.
Twenty seven years? Has it really been that long? I look at It, It’s drooling now as It slowly creeps towards me. This is the end, I know it, I’m about to join all those other children that went missing when I was just a kid. Missing, oh no, now I know the truth, they had been eaten, devoured by this foul creature that I had managed to forget for the last twenty-seven years.
Fear grips me, but a small light inside begins to burn, courage, or rather my survival instinct. As It advances on me, getting closer, I almost fully get the smell of rot coming from It’s mouth. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before giving it everything I have and make a run for it. I’m running fast now, trees almost blur together as I pass them, but I keep my eyes straight ahead of me. Heading deeper into the forest like a fool, had I been thinking straight I’d have cursed myself for being so stupid, but as it was right now all I wanted was to get away from It. I can hear It running after me, the bells on It’s costume jingling as It follows close behind. I swear I can hear It growling as I make my escape.
Like in any horror movie I’ve seen, there is always a rock or a root, well, my foot finds that cliché stone. I trip falling to the ground with a loud thud, cursing myself for not paying enough attention to what was going on. Just as I’m scrambling to my feet the clown reaches me, yanking me up to my feet. I stare at It, big frightened eyes watching It as It laughs in my face.
“Naughty, naughty,” It taunts in a clownish tone, god, how I hate clowns, “thought you could get away,”
I struggle against the gloved hand holding my arm tightly, sharp claws digging into my skin, I’m sure they have broken the skin.
“Please…” I beg pathetically, it’s not going to do me any good I know this because it’s not as if this monstrous clown is suddenly going to grow feelings and let me go.
Rain patters down around the two of us, the trees shield me from the worst part of the rain. Cold droplets soaking into my thick woolen jumper, how the weather in Derry could be dull.
It lets out a horrid laugh, It’s mocking me. It tuts at me as It pulls me closer. My expression turns to disgust as I get a face full of rancid drool and a waft of rotting breath, I seriously think for a moment that I might throw up. Wait, no, it’s not just a thought, my stomach churns and I can feel my dinner crawling up my throat. Before I can stop it my entire dinner is spilling out of my mouth and covering the clown and the floor. I notice that part of my vomit has managed to find its way into Its mouth, a small part of me thinks it’s only justice.
A small silence creeps over, the clown seems a little stunned at first as if It wasn’t expecting my reaction but it isn’t long before the damn creature is chuckling darkly and wiping my vomit from its mouth.
After a moment, It breathes in my scent, a satisfied hum escaping Its mouth.
“Perfect,”
My mind goes into panic, this is really it, I’m going to die, at the hands of a vomit covered freak clown. How ridiculous of me to have thought that I could have escaped this nightmare all those years ago.
“Stop!” I cry out suddenly, ‘I-... I don’t even know your name,” I’m ready to say anything to get me a few more moments, I’m not ready to die just yet.
A gloved hand grabs me by the throat, It glares at me , eyes turning yellow, “you don’t remember?” Its voice is somewhat offended at the idea that I have not remembered It’s name.
I cough as it’s hand tightens around my throat, tears brim in my eyes as my windpipe closes off. There were worse ways to die, I think, like being eaten alive for instance.
“That’ll come,” The clown sneers as if reading my mind.
At this point I’m not sure if I can possibly be any more afraid and it seems to know this, I’m perfect, ripe for the picking.
“Why, I’m Pennywise, the dancing clown,” It greets almost as if it hadn’t just been hauling me away out of the streets.
The clown’s vice like grip loosens a little on my throat, the air burns as it enters my lungs once again and I can’t help but splutter a little.
“Time to float,” Pennywise’s voice is cold and inhuman, I can feel the cold hand of death upon my shoulder, or was it just the freezing rain that was numbing my entire being?
Something in Its voice digs deep into my core, gripping at me, making sure I’m afraid, that I’ll always be afraid. It would be the last emotion I’d ever feel, fear.
Pennywise’s mouth begins to open, sharp yellow teeth showing, there are so many rows of teeth. Drool drips everywhere, from me to the floor, but it’s the last of my concerns, those hideous teeth nearing towards me, that’s my concern. Those razor sharp teeth heading for my neck, surly to suck me dry like some starved vampire. The pain is horrible, no, it’s more than that, it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. A thousand pointed teeth digging into my neck, breaking the skin and allowing the precious blood to flow freely. The monster laps up the pooling blood, sucking it from my body, draining me. I begin to feel weak, maybe this is how it all ends for me, it’s not so bad, the pain is fucking awful but I’m going quickly. But almost like It was reading my mind, again, It pulls away, mouth slowly closing. It’s once more a simple clown staring back at me. Almost no blood stains It’s mouth or chin except for a small trickle coming from the left corner of Its lips. With one swift swipe of a gloved hand the blood is gone.
“Tasty, tasty,” It taunts with a grin, “going to make this last,” It caresses my cheek almost lovingly, like a small child would cherish something delicious, that’s what I am after all, isn’t it? Food.
Tears begin to brim in my eyes, this is going to take a while.
I’m feeling weak, eyes closing every now and again, inviting me to rest. Maybe if I did I’d slip away and this nightmare would be over. It doesn’t take much for me to follow the soft invitation of sleep, the last thing I hear is the patter of rain falling around me and the chilling giggle of Pennywise.
Luck is not on my side. I open my eyes to find myself in a humid place. It’s dark and it smells, there is also water falling somewhere off to my right. A sudden pain throbs through the left side of my neck and everything comes back to me in a flash. Pennywise biting into me, planning on taking his time to devour me. Tears spill and I find myself crying softly in despair, how could this be happening? Why hadn’t I died? Why did I decide to come back to Derry this year and visit uncle Fred? Why not next year? All these questions and more flood my brain and I just sit there for a moment sobbing like a scared child.
Eventually I stop and wipe my eyes and nose on the sleeve of my filthy jumper, noting the smell of soil and grass.
Suddenly the smell of the room hits me in full force, damp moss and rot, a faint scent of sewage wafts along too. It makes me clamp my hand over my nose as I feel slightly overwhelmed. My eyes dart around the room looking for an escape and it doesn’t take me long to set my eyes on what looks like an iron door. Enough with the self pity, I decide, it’s time to get out of here. I get to my feet, but they refuse to carry me and I tumble to the floor. No matter, I think as I begin to drag myself along the concrete floor, I only get a few feet before my left shoulder protests. I cry out and decide to give my legs another go, either way I’m getting out of here today! This time they support my weight but I wobble as I take the first step, and as if that wasn’t enough everything starts to spin. Before I know it, I’m throwing up, again, but it’s just bile and it burns like hell coming up, my stomach is empty. Then, remembering that I already emptied it all over the clown, I almost feel like laughing.
A noise gains my attention causing me to look to my left, it’s the clown. I let out a shaky breath as another wave of nausea washes over me, I’m so not ready for this.
“Wakey, wakey” It’s shrill voice echoes through the damp room, reaching my ears and filling me with dread.
Pennywise is calm, just sitting there watching me, although the eyes of the monster are yellow, which I have come to understand means It means business.
My survival instincts kick in and I try running, but end up staggering around, fighting my body until my legs get working again. But, like any cruel child playing with an insect, It isn’t going to let me get away so easily. The moment I think I’m getting away, the clown leaps from where it is perched and slams the metal door shut. The sound makes my ears ring and I end up taking a few steps back, eyes never leaving the monster. It turns to me as I back away, a thin dribble of spit slipping from its red mouth. I look appetizing, or at least that’s what I conclude from the way it growls hungrily.
Pennywise snatches out its hand as if trying to grab me, but with no real effort, it does get the desired effect though, I jump back with a frightened cry. It makes the clown chuckle mockingly, as if all he wanted to do was scare me. The next time it tries to grab me, it doesn’t play around, it takes hold of my left wrist. With a yank the clown pulls me forward, a painful throb pulses through me as a thousand tiny puncture wounds pull. I cry out and a lone tear slips down my face as I’m practically dragged away from the only exit.
“Pleaaase!” I beg as I try to pry the clown’s gloved hand from my wrist.
A cruel smirk grows over it’s pale face, nothing good can possibly be brewing in that brain.
“Please?” It repeats, “Please, what?”
I can’t tell if it’s honestly curious or if it’s mocking me, probably the latter though.
There is silence as I watch It and It watches me. Yellow eyes burning into me, seeing right into my soul. The only sound is the running water off to the side.
“P-please…” I start quietly, “let m-me go”
An angry growl leaves it’s mouth, again, reminding me of a vicious dog.
“Wrong answer,” A snapping sound follows his reply, it echoes through the underground room where I’m held as it rips my second finger from my left hand. A soul crushing scream leaves my mouth as I think I’m on the verge of fainting but like some bizarre unnatural magic I don’t, I remain conscious. A crunch comes next and I realise that the fucking clown is chewing on it, I can’t help it, bile crawls up my throat once more and I throw up.
“Tasty,” It hums out in a sing song voice as the last of my finger is devoured, “shouldn’t play with your food but-” it brings my bleeding wound to It’s mouth, lapping up the blood, “you’re too tempting.”
A pathetic sob leaves my lips as it dawns on me that this really is the end. All shimmer of hope has dried up as I remain in this monster’s grip.
I’m thrown to the floor like some piece of trash, I try my best to crawl away but I’m tired and so very weak. I only make it a few feet before Pennywise is turning me over onto my back and leaning over me. Drool pools onto my face and neck as the monster looks me over, a chilling grin staining the creature’s face.
I hear a ripping sound but have no idea where it’s coming from until I feel a cold sharp claw digging into the skin of my stomach, it must have been It’s glove. I hadn’t even noticed that my jumper had ridden up and I was soaking in a stagnant puddle. Swallowing audibly, I watch the monstrous claw push into my skin, breaking it, allowing more vital blood to slip from my body. It pools in the curve of my stomach making a perfect cup for Pennywise to drink from. I feel it’s tongue against my skin as it drinks from the makeshift glass. I end up looking up at the rotting ceiling as more pain sparks when It’s claw digs deeper into me, splitting more of the skin and surly my organs too.
Silently I pray to a God that I’m not even sure exists that this will all be over soon. Eyes grow heavy as more of my blood is stolen, my body is numb even when the demonic clown rips my skin from my stomach with It’s mouth, I’m sure something else is taken with it but I can’t feel it. Shock, I’ve gone into shock, maybe there is a God out there and although cruel, he is finally cutting me some slack. I move my tired eyes so I can see what It is doing to me.The sound of it devouring my insides fill my ears, it should make me vomit but I don’t, maybe because I don’t have a stomach anymore? Slowly I close my eyes and slip away the last thing I see is It’s blood stained grin as It stares up at me.